more heritage sharing

Black History Month comes to a close today, but there is still so much to share and to learn. (I have personally been fortunate to participate in a Black History Month, where I learned something new each day, and am so grateful for having been invited.

At the beginning of the month, I wrote here about how wonderful it is to spotlight different groups of people and highlight their history and heritage. March is Irish-American Heritage Month and also Women's History Month.  Let the celebrating, and the sharing begin!

The stories we share can really make a difference. Before we say goodbye to February, I'd like you to continue exploring the African American heritage in our country.  There are a number of interesting stories at https://www.blackhistorymonth.gov/ and another excellent source is https://www.history.com/topics/black-history/black-history-month - I urge you to check them both out.  It really can be quite exciting sharing our personal histories.

Fighting in Europe

Sometimes, even when it has been expected, things happen that are so horrible, you choke on your thoughts and your words. I will never understand war. Why does it happen? How can anyone justify the taking of another human life? Thousands of Russian military personnel amassed near the Russo-Ukrainian border a year ago, generating international concern over a potential invasion then. It didn't happen. The troops were partially removed when summer came. By the end of the year, Russian troops built up once again, with 100,000 troops surrounding Ukraine on three sides.  Tension continued to build.  This was not unexpected, but it is still horrible, and I still don't understand.

Both sides will tell stories of course but who is right and who is wrong really isn't important.  This all could have been avoided.  There are ways to steer clear of conflict.  War is never the answer.  Killing is never the answer.

I have been watching the news.  This is a sad situation to say the least.  I'm very frustrated too because I can't seem to express myself.  Sometimes things happen that are so horrible, you choke on your thoughts and your words.  This is one of those times.  My hopes and my prayers are that the fighting come to a quick conclusion.

Together

Oh how I wish folks worked together more often!  How I wish folks cared more about each other too.  I've been talking here about that the past few days.  Folks dying alone and folks living alone.  It seems to me that together is so much better, which reminds me of this story about cooperation that I have told before.  It's one of those stories that floats around the internet, and I have no idea who wrote it, but I thought I'd share it again.

It's about a man who was taken on a tour of both heaven and hell. In hell he was shown a banquet hall filled with diners seated at a table that was covered with all kinds of delicious food. Each person’s back and left arm were tied to the chair so that bending at the waist was impossible, and the left arm could not move. The right arm was stiffened so that the elbow would not bend. The people at the table could gaze at the delicious spread and they could smell the aroma of the food, but they were starving.

In heaven, the picture was exactly the same – backs and left arms shackled, right arms stiffened – but the diners were feasting and rejoicing, because each diner used his stiffened right arm to feed the person to his or her right. It was a picture of people working together – a picture of cooperation. Working together as a team, we can do so much more!

Think about it. We are not the only ones here.  How wonderful this world would be if we all worked together and cared about of neighbors.

She wasn't alone

On Wednesday and again yesterday, I wrote here about people dying. I didn't know how (or if) I would continue the story until late afternoon when I learned of the passing of a lovely lady, I knew from volunteer work. Like the others, her death was sad, but this woman was not alone.

In 23 years, she gave nearly 20,000 of her time to hospital patients and community and showed true leadership in the hospital's volunteer services program. I had the privilege of eating lunch with this woman a few times, and every time admired her zest for life and her appreciation of her family and her friends. Always well-liked, her co-workers voted her Volunteer of the Year a few years back.

The lady I speak of here has been loved and respected for years, and in her final hours, there were many who cared about her and who now miss her. That to me is how a life well-lived should end. Tell people you love them. Show them that you appreciate them. Let them know you care. When our life comes to an end, let it be "surrounded by family and friends." Nobody should ever have to be all alone. Nobody should ever have to feel unloved or unwanted.

Rest in peace dear lady. Thanks for making a difference.

Story from a taxi driver

Once before, I shared this story with you that I had found on the internet.  The author is unknown, but it was not me.  I'm sharing it again because several people have requested it.  I have no idea if any of it is true, but I do know how inspirational it is.  I hope you agree -

A NYC Taxi driver wrote:

I arrived at the address and honked the horn. After waiting a few minutes I honked again. Since this was going to be my last ride of my shift I thought about just driving away, but instead I put the car in park and walked up to the door and knocked.

'Just a minute', answered a frail, elderly voice. I could hear something being dragged across the floor.

After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her 90's stood before me. She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940's movie.

By her side was a small nylon suitcase. The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with sheets.

There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the counters. In the corner was a cardboard box filled with photos and glassware.

'Would you carry my bag out to the car?' she said. I took the suitcase to the cab, then returned to assist the woman.

She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb.

She kept thanking me for my kindness. 'It's nothing', I told her. 'I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother to be treated.'

'Oh, you're such a good boy, she said. When we got in the cab, she gave me an address and then asked, 'Could you drive through downtown?'

'It's not the shortest way,' I answered quickly.

'Oh, I don't mind,' she said. 'I'm in no hurry. I'm on my way to a hospice.

I looked in the rear-view mirror. Her eyes were glistening. 'I don't have any family left,' she continued in a soft voice. 'The doctor says I don't have very long.' I quietly reached over and shut off the meter.

'What route would you like me to take?' I asked.

For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator.

We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when they were newlyweds She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl.

Sometimes she'd ask me to slow in front of a particular building or corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing.

As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, 'I'm tired. Let's go now'.

We drove in silence to the address she had given me. It was a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a driveway that passed under a portico.

Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. They were solicitous and intent, watching her every move.

They must have been expecting her.

I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door. The woman was already seated in a wheelchair.

'How much do I owe you?' She asked, reaching into her purse.

'Nothing,' I said.

'You have to make a living,' she answered.

'There are other passengers,' I responded.

Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug. She held onto me tightly.

'You gave an old woman a little moment of joy,' she said. 'Thank you.'

I squeezed her hand, and then walked into the dim morning light. Behind me, a door shut. It was the sound of the closing of a life.

I didn't pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly lost in thought. For the rest of that day,I could hardly talk. What if that woman had gotten an angry driver,or one who was impatient to end his shift? What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away?

On a quick review, I don't think that I have done anything more important in my life.

We're conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments. But great moments often catch us unaware-beautifully wrapped in what others may consider a small one. 

She died all alone

When we enter this world, there is so much joy. We are surrounded by people and within minutes news of our arrival is spread everywhere. At the last though, it's not the same. This lady in Italy, Marinella Beretta, died with nobody else around, and for at least two years, she wasn't even missed. It's almost like she was never here. To me this is very sad. There was nobody with her at the end.  She died all alone.

Now we have heard the other story of course, about folks passing away "surrounded by family and friends." That's the more uplifting story. I think this is the way most of us would want it. This all-alone version is all too common though.

Just yesterday I was talking to someone about those who are all alone, especially folks with health issues. Often there is no family, and for whatever reason, there are no friends around for these folks either.  I don't have one quick answer for this, except to say we need to care more.

The story of Marinella Beretta is being reported all over the world. In a front-page editorial for the Italian daily newspaper Corriere della Sera, she is described as "loneliness personified." Another paper, Il Messaggero, wrote "The mystery of Marinella's invisible life behind the closed gate of her cottage teaches us a terrible lesson. The real sadness is not that the others did not notice her death. It is that they did not realize Marinella Beretta was alive."  Indeed.

R-E-S-P-E-C-T

Aretha Louise Franklin had a tremendous success with a song called "Respect," and I could easily write page after page about both that recording and about Miss Franklin herself, but this morning there is something else I want to say about respect. It seems many folks have forgotten what it is!

It was over sixty years ago that President Dwight D. Eisenhower said "This world of ours... must avoid becoming a community of dreadful fear and hate, and be, instead, a proud confederation of mutual trust and respect." I wonder how many were listening.

 

Rude or insulting behavior or a lack of common courtesy is the opposite of respect.  There seems to be a trend these days to show disrespect and it is becoming acceptable.  Generally I try to write from the positive perspective here.  Let me tell you about some heroes or let me show you some positive ideas or here are some good things to do.  I don't usually write about what NOT to do.  So today, I don't want to dwell on that growing trend toward disrespect.  Instead I want to remind everyone how wonderful it is to be polite and courteous.  Now, don't get me wrong.  I'm not saying we should always agree with everything.  Absolutely not!  We can disagree with others and still have a respectful discussion.

One of the biggest ways we can show respect these days is to follow the guidelines for protecting ourselves and others from COVID-19.  If you must be out, keep your distance!  It has always been true that crowding someone's personal space is rude, but now it can be a health matter too.  Wear a mask around others too.  Be considerate of their space.

 

No?  I can already hear someone disagreeing with me on this one.  That's okay.  Tell me about it though.  I'd love to hear your thoughts, as long as you share them with respect.

The women

We always seem to hear about the men during Black History Month, but what about the women? Here are just a few I think people should know about:

Dr. Rebecca Lee Crumpler - the first African-American woman physician in the United States

Ella Baker - civil rights activist who worked for a number of organizations throughout her lifetime.

Dorothy Height - called the matriarch of the civil rights movement

Shirley Chisholm - first African-American Congresswoman, and one of the founding members of the Congressional Black Caucus

Lois Mailou Jones - a highly regarded artist and teacher whose career spanned seven decades and influenced generations of Black modernists.

Marsha P. Johnson - an LGBTQ activist and transwoman who was one of the first drag queens to walk into the Stonewall Inn

Jane Bolin - the nation's first Black woman judge

Alice Allison Dunnigan - the first African American female White House correspondent

Daisy Bates - a civil rights activists best known for her work on behalf of the Little Rock Nine.

Diane Nash - organized and led Freedom Rides and sit-ins

Claudette Colvin - at age 15, refused to give up her seat to a white passenger on a bus home from school (this was nine months before Rosa Parks)

Irene Morgan Kirkaldy - refused to give up her bus seat (she was before both Claudette Colvin and Rosa Parks)

Amelia Boynton Robinson - first African-American woman in Alabama to run for Congress in 1964 (the following year, she helped Martin Luther King Jr. plan the march from Selma to Montgomery)

Belva Davis - first African-American woman to become a television reporter on the West Coast. (winner of eight Emmy Awards and recognized by the American Women in Radio and Television and National Association of Black Journalists)

This is not a complete list by any means, and urge you to take a closer look at these women and others over the years who have truly made a difference.  There are also five women, whom I won't mention by name, who are making a tremendous difference in my life and in the lives of others by dedicating time each morning in prayer for their church and the world.  It is a great joy to join with them every day.

Celebrating Black History

Black History Month is celebrated every February in the United States and Canada.  Now there are those who don't like that such a commemoration exists. The wonderful actor Morgan Freeman, said: "I don't want a black history month. Black history is American history."  Yes, but isn't it wonderful to spotlight different groups of people and highlight their history and heritage?  We celebrate LGBT Pride Month, Irish-American Heritage Month, Hispanic Heritage Month, Jewish American Heritage Month, and even Filipino American History Month. I think the more we know about ourselves and the more we know about others, the better we can all live together and get along.

February is then the month for African Americans. It was officially recognized by the US government back in 1976 thanks to President Gerald Ford and has been celebrated ever since. Most school kids have special programs during the month and local libraries, government groups, and museums and other businesses offer various lectures, plays, and presentations to highlight the history of African Americans.  I'll bet there are even some events where you live.

 

Regardless of your own heritage, take some time to look at the history of the great men and women who happen to have been African American.  Morgan Freeman is correct that Black history is American history and that is a very good reason for us to know it!